Stopping, he stared at the knife for a moment, before putting it carefully down on the dresser. She carried the knife to sharpen her drawing pencils. Lori always had it. But this was the first time he noticed the screwdriver blade.
Hamish picked it up again and pried open the screwdriver with his thumbnail. It did not open easily. She apparently did not use it often.
How would Fredrick view this knife? As a potential weapon? It would be easy to rewire an amp using this tool alone. He had accomplished the same job using a pair of nail clippers to strip the wires and the file part to tighten the screws.
Leaving this investigation to the polis was not possible. They could well botch the job. Too many people had it in for Vince. If they got the wrong person, if they thought Lori was involved in some way, he could not bear it.
H.M. folded up the knife. Carefully he laid it back where he found it. Whoever did kill Vince, used a method feared by all musicians. A musician in his opinion could not have carried out the plan. Roadies often were frustrated musicians, they understood the fear of electrocution shared by those playing electric music. So, who else was there?
That left him with a nonmusician as his first choice in suspects. There were only a few people on the tour who fit that criterion. Lori filled the bill nicely. He refused to believe she was involved in Vince's murder. H.M. hoped the coppers would not suspect her. But, it was not a thing he intended to leave to chance. He wanted her clear of this mess, even if it meant finding the real killer.
Hamish went back to his search for a pair of clean socks. Finally locating them, he closed the drawer. It was possible he was being too protective. More than possible, it was probable. Lori meant more to him than she realized. Hamish prayed she hadn't been involved with Vincent.
After pulling on socks, he slipped into his shoes. H.M. went into the bathroom to brush his hair and teeth. His tooth brushing was quickly done and over with. Pushing the brush back into his toiletries bag, Hamish brushed out his hair.
Standing before the mirror, he was staring into it, but saw nothing. Clenching the handle of the hair brush, MacGrough wondered what he would do if the evidence pointed to Lori as Vincent's killer.
Nae! He shook his head to clear it of the thought. The pain that surged through his body forced him to close his eyes against the intensity of it. Lori was correct, they would all suffer from this act.
But he could live with turning in a friend. He could not imagine what it would be like if he had to live without his love.
"Honey? Are you ready? Warren will meet us in about fifteen minutes." Lori glanced at him in the bathroom mirror.
Grateful for the cover of his beard, Hamish finger combed it. Then he held out a strand of his shoulder length black hair. "I think I'm goin tae cut this all off. I want tae stop by tha gift shop. I need ah package of razors, shaving cream an per'aps an electric razor. Nae, nae electric razor. I dinna want tae bother with using an adapter plug at home. A pack of tha other kind will work just as well."
"Humm. That will be interesting. I have never seen you without a beard. It will be like making love to a stranger." Lori moved closer. She put both arms around him from behind.
"Strange stuff? Ye've ah yearning for something new, do ye?" H.M. growled softly.
"Nah. A strange you will do just fine. I'm not ready to trade you in Heavy Metal. Not yet."
Lori tugged him around. She kissed him with a desire which left him wishing they could stay in their room for an hour or so more.
There was a wicked gleam in her eyes when she backed away from him. "Come along, we have people to see."
"Trade me off? Remember who ye are talkin tae woman! I'm ah big rock star an can have any woman I wish." He followed her into the bedroom then put both arms around her from behind. Pulling her against him, he nuzzled her neck while fondling one breast.
With a giggle, she pushed his hand away. "Cut it out or we'll never get anywhere today!"
Hamish was smiling as he followed her out of the hotel room. Her laughter had calmed his paranoia. Having to shave every day might be worth it if the sight of his bare face titillated his woman's sensual side.
Taking her hand, he squeezed it gently. He refused to let go until they walked out of the lobby toward the pool.
Warren waited at a table in a corner of the patio. "You two drinking yet?" He inquired as they seated themselves.
They glanced at each other. Lori replied for the both of them. "Not yet. It's a bit too early."
Warren took a sip from the tall frosted glass. "After last night I don't think any hour is going to be too early for a long time."
He placed the glass on a napkin in front of him. "I still have a hard time believing someone actually killed the bastard. He was an asshole for so long I thought he would just go on forever."
H.M.'s stared at his manager. "Then there's nae question in yer mind that he was murdered?"
Warren shook his head vigorously."No way, babe! The only way it could happen was if someone caused it to happen, deliberately. What I can't figure is, why now? He hadn't been particularly vile this trip. In some ways he was harping on you more than anyone else."
Warren saw the look which flashed across Lori's face. "No! Wait. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't glad he was sniping at H.M. but H.M. could always handle Vince. So it was a good thing if he was leaving everyone else alone. It made for a smoother tour."
Lori crossed her arms as she glared at Warren. "It's ok if my old man takes the heat for everyone else 'cause it makes your job easier. Is that what I'm hearing?"
Warren took another drink. "Aw, come on Lori. Heavy Metal knew it. He's always known it. I've even seen him take the heat deliberately before. Vince always knew it was safe to take pot shots at H.M. The real trouble started when Vince got to thinking it was ok to treat everyone the same way. He started to believe he was the star, and the band was just back up. That dumb shit at the record company, the jerk who convinced him to do a solo album is as much to blame for Vince going off the deep end as anyone else. Once Vince became a big name he tried to live up to being the 'Viper'. Big mistake."
"Big mistake alright!" Lori shot back. "Big enough to get him killed."
Warren was silent for a moment as he lifted the glass to take another drink. "Yeah. I just can't see anyone in the band knocking him off that way. Bashing his head in with anything that happened to be handy, maybe. But not like that. Nah, the guys just don't have it in them to electrocute another musician."
"Have ye any idea who might hate him enough tae want Vincent tae fry? Have you given it any thought?" Hamish asked.
Warren took another long drink. Before replying he swirled the glass around causing the ice cubes to rattle inside. "I can't think about anything else. That's how I managed to eliminate the band members. It has to be someone other than you guys. Maybe a groupie or roadie. Maybe a crazy not connected with the tour at all. Someone who snuck in then set the whole thing up."
Warren shook his head. "This is bad man."
"I thought our security was tight. How tight was it truly, Warren?" H.M. asked.
"As tight as it's possible to make it with groupies hanging out all over the place. There are as many guys as gals hanging out these days. With crew parties going on every night, roadies balling the hangers on, a new town every day or so, it could just as easily have been a crazy as anyone else."
Warren stroked his hand down the glass. "Do you have any idea how scary that is in this day when insurance premiums jump at the slightest hint of any problem? If the cops find out it was a crazy the logistics for large tours by mid-level and big bands could become too difficult to handle. This could put an end to tours as we know them. Then all there will be is the studio. No more live gigs. Think how the record companies will love that. No more problems with bands who can't play their own shit live. No more problems with cops trying to keep it all clean. Nothing but albums and videos, how freekin sterile."
Warren gulped the last of his drink then signaled
the waiter.
"I suppose it's as good ah reason as any for ye tae help us find out who did this." Hamish shooed the waiter off. "We need tae discuss it before ye get totally pissed. I dinna think tha polis can handle this. They could drop the ball, then what? We would all be faced with tha situation ye're describing. So crawl out of tha booze Warren an help me."
"What do you want me to do?" Warren looked at Hamish as he pushed the glass to one side.
Hamish leaned forward in the chair with his hands between his knees. "Think about this. When could security have loosened up enough for someone tae fiddle with Vince's amp? Surely, it had tae be right after tha Seattle show."
Warren picked the empty glass back up. He revolved it between his palms. "You're right. It had to have been right after the show. In fact, switching the polarity on the power plug is what must have been done to light him up like a Christmas tree. Someone would have to know what they were doing. Not every nut off the street realizes you have to rewire the plug on the amp to set up the right conditions."
"Not only that." H.M. shifted his chair out of the ray of sun which had just reached him and back into the shade of the umbrella. "It still would have failed if Vincent were playing ah modern guitar. Tha fact that he played ah vintage guaranteed success. That is somethin else this individual knew."
"Yeah. Yeah!" Warren stared at H.M. in comprehension. "God! It is one of us. Damn! Who H.M.? Who did this?"
"I've no idea Warren. I must admit I had ah difficult time coming tae terms with tha notion of one of us murdering Vincent. I canna quite bring myself tae believe ah musician used that particular method tae kill him. However, I think someone with close ties tae tha industry has tae be tha culprit. In short, one of us. It's why we must not let tha coppers loose on this without one of us close behind. Someone went over tha brink. We all have tae be there when tha fox is brought tae ground. I, for one, plan tae hire the best barrister this country possesses for whoever tha poor sod turns out tae be."
"I don't understand." Warren leaned back in the chair. He was staring at Hamish in amazement.
"Come now. How long do ye think I could have stood tha viper's crap without breaking an strangling tha life out of him? Do you really think I could have handled it forever? Surely, even ye realize one crack about Lori an he would have been ah dead man."
At Lori's gasp, Hamish reached out to take her hand in his. "Do ye really think I'm some kind of saint, or worse yet, a Milquetoast calmly swallowing his foolishness year after year? It occurred tae me last night, it could be me they're looking for if he had injured someone I love."
Warren sighed.
"Sorry man, I really didn't understand. I didn't have to work with him all the time." Warren moved the glass far out of reach.
"Count me in H.M. I'll ask around. You can also count me in to help with the defense fund. You're right about the Seattle timing. Come to think of it, there was the big party Vince gave the roadies to make up for the bullshit trip he put them through about damaged equipment. I'll ask around, find out who was there and what they did."
Lori and H.M. excused themselves then walked slowly into the lobby. When checking at the desk for messages, Lori found Sergeant Fredrick had left a number for them to call. Hamish pocketed the message slip as they walked away from the desk toward the gift shop.
Lori tugged on his arm. "Shouldn't you call him?"
They stood near the wall away from people strolling down the corridor.
"In ah wee while. It's still early he pr'bly doesnae expect us tae be awake yet. We need tae get ah shaving kit first. I think I want it done before I chat with him again. Fredrick needs tae be impressed with my serious side."
He took her hand and led Lori into the shop with him. Once the purchases were made, they went back up to their suite. Hamish performed the deed with Lori sitting on the toilet seat watching.
"Well, what do you know the whiskers weren't a cover up for a weak chin. Hum mm, I like your bare face. You have a nice strong chin. Hurry up, I want a kiss from the new you." Lori reached out to grab him by the front of his jeans.
Hamish jumped. "Bloody hell! Are you tryin tae get me tae slit my throat? Leave off, woman, or I might be tempted tae shave something other than my face." He waved the shaving cream covered razor in her direction.
Lori smiled. "I might let you, love, providing you put it to me right."
Hamish groaned. Lori put her feet up on the toilet seat and propped her chin on her knees.
After swishing the razor around in the hot water, Hamish turned his head to one side. Sticking his chin in the air, he proceeded to scrape the hair from his neck.
While he concentrated on attacking his beard, Lori looked around the bathroom. "There's hair all over the place. I hadn't realized what a pelt you had. I guess I'll have to try to pick up some of this. It wouldn't be fair to leave it all for the maid."
Lori watched as H.M. threw away the razor. "That's number four or maybe five. Is it going to take the whole package?"
Pausing for a moment, H.M. glared at her before removing a fresh razor from the cellophane. "Ye could go away an leave me in peace tae get tha job done."
Reaching out one hand, Hamish put a daub of shaving cream on her nose. Lori crossed her eyes to look at the bit of foam.
Hamish laughed at her antics. "Quit yer fidgetin. Sit there quietly like ah good lass or bugger off."
Lori wiped the shaving cream from her nose and nodded. "Aye, aye, capt'n.”
She watched in amazement as the other Hamish Cadell MacGrough emerged from his disguise. As he toweled the bits of soap from his face, Lori rose from her seat on the toilet. She slipped between him and the sink.
Taking the towel away, she tossed it in the direction of the shower. "You're beautiful Hamish. I'm going to have to drive the girls off with a stick."
He stepped back, startled. "Tis just tha same old me who's always been under tha beard."
She rubbed her hand against his cheek. "I like it. Do you really have to call the awful cop?"
Once the words were out, she wished she had kept silent. Hamish was suddenly serious again.
"Aye. I do. An I had better get tae it. This shaving took longer than I planned. Wouldnae want tha polis tae get tha notion I was ducking them, mind."
He left the bathroom. Lori heard him punch in the number. She turned on the water to clean up the sink. The noise covered up the conversation. It was just as well.
She did not want to hear anything until Hamish came to her and told her what they wanted. His being so involved with the cops bothered her. Lori picked up as much of the hair as was possible and deposited it in the wastebasket. She froze when she heard his footsteps behind her.
He spoke from the vicinity of the door. "He's coming up here. It appears he has other people he wishes tae interview. I expect he will be here in ah half hour or so. I believe we are first on tha list.”
Lori finished putting the hair clippings into the trash, then walked into the bedroom. "I hate this! Every time I hear the word 'cop', I want to run to the nearest airport and take the first plane anywhere."
Hamish caught her by the wrist and pulled her down onto the bed with him. "Wheesht, luv. Go easy."
Putting one of her fingers into his mouth, Hamish sucked on it for a moment. She reached out to stoke his cheek. H.M. tucked her close to him.
"Kiss me." Hamish commanded. "See if you really like tha baby's bottom effect."
Lori willingly obliged. There was one sure way of taking both their minds off the current situation. A half hour was enough time for a quickie.
"Hamish?"
"What luv?"
"We have some time before the cop gets here. Do you think?"
With a chuckle, Hamish began to unbutton her blouse.
1The knock on the door came just as they were getting dressed.
"Oh, bugger off!" H.M. mumbled as he tugged his tee shirt over his head. With a grin, he turned to Lori. She would need a few minutes to put herself to ri
ghts. "I'll get tha door an keep tha copper occupied for ye."
H.M. padded to the door in his bare feet. The polis could think what he wished. "Well, good day tae ye, Sergeant Fredrick." Opening the door, Hamish stood to one side to allow the copper in.
The man's hard eyes took in his slightly disheveled appearance. Fredrick uttered something akin to a grunt as his eyes narrowed.
"Is your girlfriend around?" Fredrick inquired icily.
Hamish swallowed the first retort which came to mind. Anger broadened his Scots. "Och, aye. Tha lassie will be 'round in ah wee while. Sit yurself doon, she willna be long."
Lori heard their conversation as she hurriedly combed her hair. The thickness of H.M.'s brogue told her he was quickly losing his patience. It wouldn't do for him to order the bastard out. Fredrick was the only one who might be receptive. They couldn't afford to make an enemy of him.
Ditching the thought of changing her shirt, she checked the mirror to make sure all the buttons were properly done up. Taking the hem in both hands, she pulled on the sleeveless blouse and arranged the collar. That would have to do.
Sitting on the couch, Hamish had one bare foot on the coffee table. There was enough room on his left side for her to sit. Sliding in past the low table, she sat next to her husband.
Lori took his hand before squeezing his fingers firmly. Hamish glanced over at her when the strength of her grip told him to keep his wits about him. With a sigh, he patted her knee.1
Fredrick eyed Hamish. "You were correct MacGrough, it appears everyone Slaughter was acquainted with had come to hate him. Everyone connected with this tour appears to have a motive for murder with one possible exception. I don't trust exceptions. They make me nervous. I want to know why your girl friend is an exception with no apparent reason to want Slaughter out of the way. I'd like to ask her a few questions.”
Without waiting for a reply, 1the man took out his notebook. Fredrick consulted a few pages, then glanced up at her. "Who did you meet first, Slaughter or MacGrough?"
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